


drown in love with me

by skyclectic



Category: TWICE (Band)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, F/F, Friends to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-14 10:48:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21014528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skyclectic/pseuds/skyclectic
Summary: Jihyo has long memorised the shape and nature of it; she knows the exact collection of memories that make up the constellation of her first love. The thing is, she’s always known and over the years, she’s relearnt it again and again, what it means to be in love with Myoui Mina.





	drown in love with me

**Author's Note:**

> Written for TFG's Fic Fest, Onces Never Sleep, in celebration of Twice's Fourth Anniversary! :) <3
> 
> The line i've quoted in the fic for the set theme is this moment from Twice TV 2 Episode 8 at around the 05:16-05:18 time stamp. 
> 
> **Mina (to Jihyo)**: You have to hold my hand  


Everything falls apart just a week after Jihyo turns 27. She’s in the middle of preparing for her next album; there are late nights that stretch into mornings waking up on the sofa in the recording studio instead of in her bed.

Everything falls apart with a scandalous Dispatch headline and an even more scandalous photograph that causes a public outcry. Her fans have been supportive of course, but there is a tidal wave of outrage from the majority who are still rooted in conservative mindsets.

It doesn’t even matter that it’s an old photograph from eight months ago, doesn’t even matter that it’s actually a moment that bookends a casual date. What matters more to the thousands of people who read Dispatch, is the woman pressing a kiss to the corner of Jihyo’s mouth.

Jihyo knows it’s her fault. She should have been more careful, more watchful of sneaky camera lenses. But god, Jihyo is so, so tired of living life within certain lines and set boundaries. It’s _exhausting_ and what kind of life is that even, where she’s wary and having to watch her back all the time? 

It’s ridiculous because it’s nobody’s business whom she chooses to kiss. The scandal doesn’t die down however, and two weeks later, Jihyo is still receiving daily hate comments in her Instagram DMs. She doesn’t read any of them of course, but she feels the sting all the same.

What’s even more ironic is that Jihyo can’t even remember what that girl’s name is or what she looks like; they never met again beyond that first date, never explored possibilities outside of that goodbye kiss that has now become the bane of Jihyo’s existence.

Her phone rings just as Jihyo takes the first sip of her coffee, black without any sugar and somehow reflective of her current mood.

“You doing okay?” The gentleness in Sana’s voice carries over the oceans between them. She’s in some part of Eastern Europe, on a photoshoot for a high-end Japanese fashion magazine. _Budapest, maybe,_ Jihyo thinks. It’s harder now to keep track of where everyone is when they’re all scattered in different cities, chasing their own dreams after spending seven years together as Twice. 

Jihyo sighs and drinks more of her coffee. It burns all the way down her throat. “I wish I could say yes, but it’s still a shitstorm.”

Sana is quiet for a moment, letting Jihyo’s words sink in. Then she makes a little noise, a familiar note of reassuring comfort Jihyo has been on the receiving end of countless times in the past. It settles Jihyo a lot more than the coffee.

“Shitstorms pass too. It’ll be sunny before you know it.”

“Isn’t it 4am or something in Budapest right now?”

“Prague,” Sana corrects, and Jihyo hears the sound of a door open and shut. “I have an early call time. We’re trying to catch the sunrise."

Jihyo hums in understanding, and they lapse into a comfortable kind of silence. Jihyo should probably ask if Sana’s calling for a particular reason or just to check up on her but she doesn’t. Her heart feels strangely at ease, having Sana’s company even if they’re on opposite sides of the earth.

“I have to go soon.” Jihyo frowns because Sana sounds apologetic, _too_ apologetic, like whatever she’s about to say next will hurt Jihyo in some inexplicable way. “Look, Mina’s probably going to call you. She mentioned something the other day about offering you her guest room if you need to get away from -”

“You couldn’t have just texted me that when she called you?” Jihyo hates how her voice cracks, hates how her heart is now a hummingbird fluttering recklessly against her ribs. 

“We both know you’d rather hear it from me in person,” Sana points out, all sharp and tempered steel. Then she sighs and softens her voice. “I don't want you to be blindsided if she really does call.”

A humourless laugh escapes Jihyo’s lips before she can stop it. Perhaps to make up for the way she’s starting to feel raw and unravelled, the way she always is whenever it comes to anything Mina. “Well, I probably will still be anyway.”

“I know,” Sana says, and Jihyo hears someone call out Sana’s name in the background. “I really have to go now, but Jihyo. Just talk to her, okay? It’s been long enough.”

“You know it’s not that simple,” Jihyo manages to say, just before Sana hangs up on her. 

When the call comes a day later, Jihyo is not even surprised. Mina has always been one to keep her word, holding promises she makes in the cradle of her palms like sugar-spun figurines.

Still, Jihyo lets it ring for a few seconds - it’s easier than whatever will come the moment she picks up. 

“Hey,” she says, and then clams up. Jihyo has thought about this moment for ages, has written and rewritten every single thing she wants to say but her throat is closing up in a tangle of weeds.

“You sound tired,” is Mina’s reply, a hint of concern underlining her words. 

Jihyo lets out a soft exhale, and then moves towards the door; this is a conversation that feels too intimate for the bedroom. She needs neutral ground, somewhere Mina won’t be able to haunt her when she’s trying to fall asleep. The apartment is semi-dark, but Jihyo doesn’t turn on the lights, navigating her way to the living room in the dim moonlight. Her movements are slow, like every part of her has forgotten how to function at the mere sound of Mina’s voice. 

“Sorry,” Jihyo says, sinking down into her favourite armchair and curling her legs up underneath her. “I guess, yeah, I am tired.”

There’s a pause at first. Jihyo hears a door sliding open - then the unmistakable sound of the ocean in the background, the sound of leaves rustling in the sea breeze. She lets her eyes slip close and she can almost see it: Mina on the porch of her house, staring out over the Pacific ocean with the wind in her hair and the sun kissing her skin. Jihyo dreams about it sometimes, that image. 

As hard as it is to keep track of where everyone is now that she’s no longer their leader, Jihyo has always known exactly where Mina is. 

“Sorry, is the wind bothering you?”

_Why do we keep apologising to each other like this_, Jihyo thinks but cannot bring herself to say. Some things are just meant to remain buried somewhere the sun never shines on. 

“No, it sounds -” Jihyo bites her lip, searching for the right word. “It sounds peaceful.”

“It is,” Mina agrees, and Jihyo hears it, the brief exhale of air that carries all of Mina’s hesitations. “You should experience it for yourself.”

“Mina,” she breathes. “I don’t think -”

“Do you remember Twice TV 2?” Mina interrupts, and it’s such a random question that Jihyo feels immediately wrong-footed. "When we shot at that amusement park? Everland, I think."

“Yeah, I remember Everland,” Jihyo answers cautiously, still confused at this sudden turn in their conversation. 

Ironically, the confusion helps, because what swims to the front of her mind is a montage of moments she shared with Mina that day. How Mina had linked their arms as they walked through the theme park, how they shared a plate of fried rice for lunch, how they fed a giraffe and how Mina’s laughter sounded in her ear when Jihyo leaned into her to escape the hungry animal. Every one of her memories from that day is coloured with Mina. And the confusion helps to drown them out and file them away in that place in her heart Jihyo has long ago thrown away the key to. 

“I was so afraid to ride that kiddie roller coaster, remember? And I told you that -”

“That I have to hold your hand, yeah I remember that,” Jihyo cuts in, somehow getting the words out past the growing lump in her throat because just like that, she’s thrown right back into the pages of the past, right back into that moment.

“I’m asking you to hold my hand again, Jihyo-yah,” Mina’s voice is rough, cracking over the words, maybe from her sincerity or maybe from the same memories currently looping through Jihyo’s own mind. “I know you need space and time away from - from everything and I have - I have a spare room you’ll love.”

Maybe it’s nostalgia, or maybe it’s Mina, but Jihyo finds herself saying yes before she can stop herself or think it through properly.

Mina hangs up with a gentle _goodnight Jihyo, see you soon_. 

In the morning, Jihyo wakes up to find Mina’s address on her phone. She reads it so many times it sears itself into her mind - a trivial piece of information solidifying into memory. 

Later, in the studio, she’s supposed to be working on composing the next song on her tracklist. Instead, Jihyo turns to a fresh page in her notebook. When she finally takes a break hours later, her page is full; Mina’s address calls out to her from the corner she had scribbled it in, beside the doodle of that Hawaiian palm tree, and then lyrics that catch her entirely by surprise. 

_Well_, Jihyo thinks to herself as she reads over the words, _it’s not the first time I've ever written a song about Mina. And god knows it won’t be the last_. 

Two days later, Jihyo’s on the way to the airport in the passenger seat of Nayeon’s Maserati. There is a tangle of emotions that have grown roots beneath her breastbone and she’s feeling the cold tendrils of regret slowly seeping in. This is a terrible idea and Jihyo knows it, even if Mina herself had extended the olive branch in the first place. Taking up Mina’s offer is throwing herself into the shades of grey that have somehow coloured the spaces between them. Her heart, already battered, teeters on the edge of a cliff, just a step away from shattering after the fall. 

Jihyo takes a deep breath and tries to relax. She focuses instead on the flash of city lights out the window. Nayeon is singing along to the radio, unapologetically loud and not quite in tune, like she just wants to sing her heart out without caring about the technicalities of pitch and harmony. It reminds Jihyo of days where they’d spend hours in a karaoke room - that carefree joy of their younger years.

Jihyo chuckles when the next song comes on; it's an old favourite of theirs. Nayeon is already grinning at her, a glint in her eye that is both mischievous and a challenge. Jihyo slips right into it of course (she never backs down from a challenge), singing the first verse effortlessly. It’s easy because _this_ is the cornerstone of her lifelong friendship with Nayeon - songs with hearts that carry treasured memories and a seamless harmony of their voices. 

When the chorus hits, Jihyo lets her voice flow over the notes, feeling each one echo in her own heart. Nayeon’s adlibs take a life of their own; it’s ridiculous and familiar and Jihyo gives in to the laughter bubbling up her throat.

“You suck,” Jihyo gasps when she manages to catch her breath. “Why do you do that _every_ time?”

Nayeon shrugs, a look of concentration on her face as she switches lanes. “Because it always makes you laugh.”

Nayeon says it matter-of-factly but they’ve been friends for so long, Jihyo can hear the layers of unspoken words and so she waits. When they finally pull into an empty spot in the airport carpark 30 minutes later, Nayeon turns to her, eyes unreadable. 

“There’s an exception to every rule, Jihyo-yah. And for Mina, that’s always been you.”

“What do you mean?” Jihyo asks, because it’s not like Nayeon at all to be anything less than an open book that Jihyo can read effortlessly. 

Nayeon’s gaze sharpens, and Jihyo can’t help but steel herself for whatever it is Nayeon is about to say. 

“She went _camping_ because you asked her to, Jihyo. And most of the time, she doesn’t even want to get out of her bed to _eat_.”

“That - “ Jihyo begins shakily, heart thundering. Her fingers twist the fabric of her sweater, just for something to hold on to. “That was a long time ago.”

Nayeon must be able to read the way Jihyo’s thoughts are starting to fray, because her eyes soften. She reaches over, and then Jihyo’s fingers are tangled in hers instead of fabric. 

“Look, I don’t know what happened between you two,” Nayeon tells her, thumb soothing circles over the back of Jihyo’s hand. “But it doesn’t have to be so complicated, you know.”

_It’s Mina_, Jihyo wants to say, because there are no other words that will ever suffice. But her phone beeps, and out of habit, Jihyo swipes at the Instagram notification - and feels blindsided all over again when her mind registers that she’s looking at a gorgeous Hawaiian sunset. The lyrics that accompany the photo are both steeped in nostalgia and cruel in a way that settles into the barely healed fractures in her heart.

_Even if my eyes turn red, you still melt my heart_

_That red sunset_

“You’re gonna love the view from her place,” Nayeon says after taking a glance at Jihyo’s phone and somehow, her words anchor Jihyo back in the present. 

“Did you?” Jihyo can’t help but ask, trying her best to ignore the sharp pain building under her ribs. “I mean…of course you did. I remember your Instagram posts.”

Something flickers in Nayeon’s gaze, a flash too fast for Jihyo to understand. Then her lips quirk into a smile, the kind that barely holds together an open secret.

“Those were taken from the beach in front of The Royal Hawaiian.” Nayeon’s smile widens at the confusion layered in Jihyo’s eyes. Her explanation that follows is gentle, like she’s trying to soften the blow before it cracks Jihyo’s heart open again. 

“Whenever any of us visit her, Mina rents out a suite at the hotel. It’s an hour’s drive away. On the opposite end of the island. None of us has ever been to her place, Jihyo-yah.”

_You’ll be the first_, Jihyo hears the words as clearly as if Nayeon had spoken them out loud. The implications and the weight of Mina’s address in her notebook feel suddenly too heavy to bear. 

“Don’t overthink it too much,” Nayeon continues, nudging Jihyo hard enough to jostle her thoughts out of order. “Come on, let’s go or you’ll miss your flight.”

Jihyo has long memorised the shape and nature of it; she knows the exact collection of memories that make up the constellation of her first love. The thing is, she’s always known and over the years, she’s relearnt it again and again, what it means to be in love with Myoui Mina. 

It starts when they’re seventeen, on a cold winter morning, two days after 2013 shed its skin into a new year. It starts with shy introductions and awkward smiles half-hidden behind curtains of straight, raven hair. 

It starts when they’re seventeen, a simple fluttering in Jihyo’s chest that has never stopped - only grown older and wiser, more sure of itself, even when she’s loved other people enough for them to leave their footprints on the shores between her ribs. 

It starts when they’re seventeen, and has never stopped. Time and time again, Mina is the only constant - the only one she carries around in her heart wherever she goes. 

Her flight gets delayed, and Jihyo is exhausted by the time she exits the airport. It’s strange to not be greeted by a swarm of flashing lights and voices calling out her name, be it for candid photographs or a quotable soundbite. It’s strange but refreshing; a breath of fresh air that’s a welcome relief from the heightened media scrutiny she’s been under since that stupid Dispatch headline. 

Jihyo finds a cab with no problems at all and shows the driver Mina’s address. The polite small talk her driver shares with her lapses into an easy silence 10 minutes into the long drive. Jihyo spends the time watching Hawaii colour the world outside the car, losing herself in the sights because it’s easier than thinking about her destination.

The drive gives way to stretches of road with surf shops and tourists in aloha shirts, then fades into glimpses of the bluest sea in between a row of colorful residential homes. The cab pulls up in front of a modest house: two floors painted a shade of calming white, bracketed by palm trees and surrounded by a stone fence and a wooden gate. 

In the time it takes for Jihyo to pay her driver and help him unload her bags, the wooden gate slides open and then Mina is there, in a long oversized sweater and slippers on her feet.

Jihyo’s throat is tight because there are only a few metres separating them instead of time folded into years and oceans of blue. 

She thanks her driver again and lets herself watch the tail lights disappear before she turns to where Mina is waiting just past the gate. 

“Hi,” Jihyo says, as she approaches slowly, dragging her suitcase behind her. 

Mina blinks, as if coming out of a daze, and then there’s a hint of that familiar gummy smile. “Hi.”

The house is gorgeous, cozy in a way that immediately puts Jihyo at ease. There’s a soft-looking grey sofa in front of a fireplace, and the living room opens up to a large kitchen with white cupboards and an island that doubles as a dining table. There’s an apron draped over one of the chairs, and Jihyo can see it immediately: Mina cooking in that apron, maybe humming to herself as she carefully measures out ingredients. 

“Are you hungry?” Mina asks, watching as Jihyo takes everything in. “I can make something for you, if you are.”

Jihyo shakes her head. “The flight exhausted me. I kind of just wanna nap for a bit.”

Mina’s eyes turn soft in understanding. She takes Jihyo’s suitcase from her and leads the way up to the second floor. There’s a television and some comfortable-looking bean bags on the carpet. Jihyo has to suppress a smile when she spots a shelf full of video games and consoles. She takes heart in the fact that no matter what, Mina hasn’t changed and is still the same person she’s always known. 

Mina heads to the right and opens the door there, revealing a queen-sized bed and french doors that open out to a balcony overlooking the beach. Mina’s right of course - Jihyo loves the room at first sight, just like Mina said she would when they spoke over the phone days ago.

“I’ll see you later,” Mina says, before she steps out and closes the door behind her. 

Jihyo takes in a deep breath, smells the ocean, and starts to make herself at home.

The sky is a warmer shade of blue when Jihyo wakes up from her nap and wanders back downstairs. It’s quiet, with only the sound of the waves for company. Mina is nowhere in sight, but there’s a plate of egg fried rice on the kitchen island and a note in Mina’s neat handwriting.

Jihyo heats up her food as instructed and enjoys every bite. This time, when the memories swim to the front of her mind, it’s less of an ache and more of a fond recollection of lazy mornings in the dorm on their rare days off, enjoying simple home-cooked meals like this.

After she washes the dishes, Jihyo heads to the sliding doors that border the living room and slips outside, onto the wooden porch that wraps around this side of the house. She sees Mina next, picking her out effortlessly among the other surfers on the beach. Mina has her surfboard under her arm as she walks back to the house, giving Jihyo a little wave that Jihyo returns easily.

She’s still impossibly beautiful, with her sun-kissed skin and a lightness in her step that Jihyo remembers from their teenage years. It makes her heart ache because Jihyo remembers how that lightness had dimmed years after their debut, how Mina’s spark faded away along with her gummy smile. The same one she’s directing at Jihyo now.

“Come walk on the beach with me,” Mina tells her, resting her surfboard on the edge of the porch before holding her hand out. 

Jihyo doesn’t even have to think about it, lacing their fingers together and falling into step beside Mina. The sun is just about to set, painting the sky hues of orange and pink. The last embers of sunshine catch in Mina’s hair, a shade of copper that reminds Jihyo of their Cheer Up days. A sudden spike of yearning flares up in her chest - a longing for simpler, happier times, simmering underneath helpless yearning for the woman next to her.

The ache grows sharper when Mina squeezes her hand and offers Jihyo a tender, sunlit smile. “I’m really glad you’re here, Jihyo-yah.”

She squeezes Jihyo’s hand again and they stop walking. It feels like a significant moment; the two of them standing together on the same shore, navigating waters full of the flotsam of their friendship, of their relationship, of _them_.

Mina’s eyes are heavy, full of emotion and all the words they’ve never had the courage to say to each other. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too,” Jihyo manages to say around the lump in her throat. “I’m sorry I haven’t been -”

“No, don’t apologise,” Mina interrupts, shaking her head. “It’s in the past right? Can we just…put it all behind us?”

Jihyo knows nothing is ever that simple, but she hates the way Mina is looking at her right now, with an edge of vulnerability that makes her seem smaller than she really is. So she nods and then hitches a smile onto her face, wide enough to show her teeth and dissolve the lingering tension that had slipped in between them. 

“Thank you for inviting me, Minari. You’re right, I _do_ love my room. A lot."

Mina’s lips quirk at the nickname and she reaches out with her other hand, smoothing over Jihyo’s windswept bangs. “Stay as long as you want.”

Then, Mina leans in and presses a soft kiss to Jihyo’s cheek that sinks into Jihyo’s skin in ways she can barely make sense of; she feels it for hours afterwards, a different kind of haunting. 

The next few days pass by uneventfully. Jihyo spends a lot of time in her room, working on her songs. Occasionally, Mina checks in on her - reminding Jihyo to eat or take a break. When it’s almost time for sunset, Jihyo will wander downstairs, meeting Mina out on the porch or on the beach. They’ll take a quick walk in the last of the sun’s rays, before heading back to the house for dinner or a short drive to a nearby restaurant. 

It’s another night where they’re having dinner at home - a simple pasta salad Mina had whipped up. Jihyo offers to do the dishes, and Mina gives her a grateful smile before retreating into her room to indulge in a relaxing bath. 

When she’s done with the dishes, Jihyo heads upstairs to her own room, already thinking of changes she wants to make to some of the lyrics she had written the other day. 

She’s just putting the finishing touches on her doodle of a paper boat when there’s a soft knock on her door and a second later, Mina’s sheepish smile lights up the room.

“I’m having a sudden craving for an acai bowl,” Mina explains when Jihyo tilts her head in question. 

“Okay,” Jihyo closes her notebook and walks over to the wardrobe, grabbing a cardigan to pull over her tank top. “Let’s go get one, then.”

It takes 15 minutes to drive to the food truck that sells _the best acai bowl this side of the island_, according to Mina. Jihyo sits in the passenger seat of Mina’s car and Mina fills the silence with funny little anecdotes from her everyday life on the island. Jihyo listens to the soothing lilt of Mina’s voice and the giggles she lets out whenever she remembers a particularly amusing story about a tourist or an amateur surfer. Jihyo listens, and she doesn’t ask when Mina got her driving license or whether impromptu random drives to get dessert at 10pm is something Mina does on a regular basis. 

Even in winter, it’s still a little too warm to sit outside, so Mina gets a takeaway acai bowl with a bunch of extra toppings for them to share and hands it to Jihyo so she can drive them back. Jihyo alternates between feeding herself and feeding Mina, feeling a kind of joy spark in her whenever Mina hums in delight at every spoonful. 

They settle on the bean bags in front of the television, passing the bowl back and forth between them. It’s easy - the kind of comfortable silence Jihyo loves sharing with Mina, before everything else got in the way. 

It makes Jihyo pensive though, this silence. It always has. Or maybe it’s just the fact that it’s been a long time since she’s had the chance to experience it with Mina. On the heels of her pensive mood comes Nayeon’s voice. _There’s an exception to every rule, Jihyo-yah. And for Mina, that’s always been you._

The words echo in her head, crowd the rest of her thoughts out because she’s here, on a bean bag in Mina’s actual _home_, and not in a random hotel room. 

“Am I the only one of our friends who have seen this?”

Mina’s forehead creases in confusion. “This?”

“_This_,” Jihyo waves her hand around, trying to ignore the way her stomach has started to knot. “You. Like this, in your _home_.”

Carefully, meticulously, Mina sets down the empty bowl on the floor. And then just as slowly, meets Jihyo’s eyes with an unreadable look. “If you’re asking, you already know the answer.”

“I don’t understand how you can just -”

“Just what?” Mina cuts in, an uncharacteristic flash of warning in her eyes that Jihyo ignores because god, this is so long overdue and Jihyo is _tired_ of keeping words locked behind her teeth.

“I don’t understand how you can just sweep everything under the carpet and forget about it. Like _nothing_ happened between us, like all of this is _normal_.”

Mina exhales sharply, and then it tapers into a dry, humourless laugh. Jihyo’s ears are ringing and her heart is starting to ache along familiar fractured wounds. 

“Nothing _did_ happen between us, Jihyo. _You_ made sure of that,” Mina points out, voice serrated around the edges. Then, she closes her eyes and takes in a deep, shaky breath. When she opens them again, her eyes are liquid, losing all of their heat from earlier. “I’m sorry, that’s unfair of me. But I just - for what it’s worth, you’re wrong. I _haven’t_ forgotten anything. I haven’t forgotten that kiss, just as much as _you_ haven't forgotten it either, Jihyo-yah.”

And there it is, the thing that unravelled them years ago, looming like a spectre that’s come alive to haunt them all over again. 

The first (a faded memory):

It’s a terrible idea but here they are, in a lopsided circle on the floor of their living room, trying to be as quiet as they can so the younger (underage) ones don’t wake up. They rarely get to do this, given their unforgiving schedules. Which explains why all of them are already pleasantly tipsy, despite only sharing three bottles of soju and a can of beer between the six of them.

Jihyo snaps back to the present when Nayeon, for the tenth time, starts complaining about the actor in the movie (what’s it called again?) they’re watching. 

“He needs a haircut,” Nayeon scoffs, voice climbing steadily louder as her indignant gestures grow more and more exaggerated until she’s almost stabbing her finger into their television, nose pressed dangerously close to the screen. “A haircut. With knives, just chop it all off, chop chop _chop_ \- ”

Her next words are muffled against Jeongyeon’s palm, and it takes the combined efforts of Jeongyeon, Momo and Sana to drag her back to the sofa. Momo’s taken it as her duty to keep a firm hold on one of Nayeon’s flailing arms and Sana opts to sit on Nayeon’s lap, giggling as she gets comfortable.

“You have to be quiet,” Jeongyeon hisses, her hand still covering Nayeon’s mouth. “You’ll wake up the kids."

“You’re gonna suffocate her,” Jihyo points out from where she's slumped over the coffee table, but she kicks at Nayeon’s shin all the same. “And yes, _shut up_, unnie.”

Jeongyeon removes her hand, revealing a very pouty Nayeon. Jihyo rolls her eyes at the sight and reaches for the remote in front of her. It takes her a couple of tries, but she manages to press the power button in the end. “Let’s just play a game.”

Nayeon’s eyes light up, and Jihyo instinctively reaches for the bottle of soju and drains whatever’s left in it - because that look in Nayeon’s eye spells trouble. The kind of trouble that she will deeply regret in the morning, Jihyo has learnt over the time they’ve been friends.

“Here,” a quiet voice comes from her left and the glass bottle in her hand is exchanged for a bottle of water instead.

“Thank you, Minari.” Jihyo grins when Mina beams at the nickname, and there it is again, that familiar flutter in her chest. 

She doesn’t have time to linger on the feeling though, because her brain registers one of Nayeon’s overlarge feet kicking her shoulder impatiently, over and over, just to be annoying about getting her attention. 

“I’m gonna dump this water over your head,” Jihyo threatens, much to Jeongyeon and Momo’s delight. Mina chuckles, a breathy laugh that fans over Jihyo's cheek and it takes everything in Jihyo to not react. She lets herself wonder instead when Mina got so close to her; was it when she passed Jihyo water? 

“You wouldn’t,” Nayeon smirks, even though she does stop trying to bruise Jihyo’s shoulder with her toes. “I asked you to choose truth or dare.”

“Dare,” Jihyo says, immediately focusing all of her attention on Nayeon, because the alternative is marvelling at the way Mina is _so close_, pressed up against her side. She knows Nayeon is expecting her to pick truth. While that's always been the case, Jihyo's feeling reckless today, the alcohol buzzing in her veins making her feel fearless. Besides, Jihyo's always loved a good challenge, and she loves winning, especially if it means winning against Nayeon. 

Surprise flickers for a second over Nayeon’s face but it quickly dissolves into a steely, determined glint. Nayeon never backs down from a challenge either. “I dare you to kiss Mina. On the lips.”

There’s a stunned silence as everyone processes the words. Even Sana has stopped her giggling, lifting her head from Nayeon’s shoulder with a tiny frown. 

“Why Mina, though?”

Nayeon shrugs. “It’s _her_ birthday we’re celebrating.”

“My birthday ended almost two hours ago,” Mina says, but she’s already facing Jihyo, tilting her head with the softest of smiles, as if telling Jihyo it’s okay to just lean in and - 

Jihyo takes a deep breath, her eyes slipping close as she tunes everything out. It’s the briefest of seconds as she tries to calm her racing heart and work up the courage at the same time, but it’s enough for Mina’s gummy smile to take shape in her mind - a glimpse or a promise of something she’s not quite sure of yet. 

“Jihyo,” Mina’s voice reels her back to shore, back to this moment, and Jihyo opens her eyes to that same smile in flesh instead of mere thought. 

There’s no other choice really but to close the distance between them. It’s barely a kiss, just the softest press of lips. A feathery touch as light as air - directly opposed to the crushing weight of her feelings for Mina caving her heart in the moment their lips meet. 

What happens next is a blur of more soju and flashes of overlapping disjointed memories that fade away into nothingness by the time both of them wake up in the morning. 

It doesn’t count if neither of them remember it: their first kiss, the lightest touch of their lips. 

The second (an ever fixed memory):

Jihyo thinks there’s a certain poetry to it - something poignant about how their first words were exchanged in a practice room. And now, another practice room will bear witness to their goodbyes.

Mina is leaning against the mirrored wall, her arms crossed and cardigan pulled tightly around herself. She looks small, smaller than Jihyo has ever seen her. And she’s so pale that she’s in danger of fading from sight, like a dandelion seed carried away by the wind. 

It hurts Jihyo to see her like this. And it hurts Jihyo more to realise what it must have cost for Mina to be standing here in front of her, how much it must have taken out of her to face the goodbye instead of withdrawing. 

For a wild, incongruous moment, Jihyo thinks of closing the gap between them, of gathering Mina into her arms and never letting her go. But those are thoughts that cannot bridge the distance that has come between them - all of this intangible space that will soon stretch into actual oceans, into miles of land and sky. 

So Jihyo doesn’t move. She just stares at Mina with her heart stuck in her throat. Anything else, anything more, would be selfish. And this, Jihyo has to remind herself, is not about her and what she wants. 

“Mina,” Jihyo says, and she hates how small she sounds, hates how she cannot hide the hurt and the faint hint of betrayal in her voice. 

Mina flinches, shrinking back further against the wall, with her shoulders hunched like she’s caving under the weight of an insurmountable pain. 

“I’m sorry.” Her voice quivers - weak and in danger of breaking. 

The threads holding the last shreds of Jihyo’s composure unravel completely. She swallows past the lump in her throat and only tastes salt and something oddly like heartbreak. 

“I’m sorry too,” Jihyo echoes, and she means it, for a lot more than she knows how to put into words. “I just - I just want you to be happy, Mina.”

_Please, stay_, Jihyo doesn’t say; she keeps the words under lock and key. _I love you._

There’s a smile that ghosts on Mina’s lips, brittle and too heavy with sadness. It’s half-hidden behind curtains of straight, raven hair and Jihyo is pulled back down the wrong end of time, back to their first meeting. They’re older now, tainted by each other in ways neither of them were ever brave enough to put a name to. 

Mina’s breath hitches, and instinctively, Jihyo crosses the bridge; she reaches out a shaking hand and cups Mina’s face, thumb brushing the tears away. 

It doesn’t matter who crosses the next bridge first. All Jihyo knows, all she can comprehend, is the feel of Mina’s lips on hers, desperate and searing into her memory - a permanent mark Jihyo knows she can never forget.

When Mina finally pulls away, Jihyo’s gasping for air, her lungs full of hot tears and _god, why does this hurt so badly?_

“Mina - “ Jihyo tries, grasping for something to say despite the hole cracking open in her chest. “I’m sorry, I -”

But it’s too late. Mina draws back like she’s been scalded and even as Jihyo reaches out for her, Mina has already withdrawn into herself, eyes shuttered and face a constellation Jihyo cannot make sense of.

Jihyo doesn’t move, not even when Mina turns away and leaves.

“You were leaving, Mina,” Jihyo’s voice cracks, fraying apart over the syllables. “I couldn’t - it would have been too selfish. It would have hurt us more."

Her ears are ringing and she cannot bear the way Mina is looking at her - a broken ragdoll stitched together from all the choices Jihyo has made since that kiss.

“I’m not blaming you. I never have,” Mina breathes, and then confesses all at once. “I don’t know how to.”

There are volumes of words they need to arrange into actual conversations - all the things they’ve never been brave enough to put a name to, all the ghosts chasing after them through the years that have led them to this moment. 

There are volumes of words, but all Jihyo can think about is the feel of Mina’s lips on hers. She’s already moving forward, forehead pressed to Mina’s own, before her brain catches up and she freezes.

“Tell me to stop.” Jihyo is breathless, aching with years of longing. “Mina, you need to tell me to _stop_.”

“No,” Mina says, her fingers sinking into Jihyo’s hair. “I don’t want to."

Mina’s mouth touches hers tentatively, almost shy, and full of unspoken questions. Jihyo can only kiss back harder, trying to pour everything she feels into the kiss. She swallows Mina’s shaky exhale when her teeth sink into Mina’s lip, and then sweeps over the bite with her tongue. Mina makes another sound, somewhere caught between a gasp and a moan, and it tugs at something beneath Jihyo’s ribs - gathers all of her feelings and lays them out at her feet.

This is why out of everyone else, Jihyo is the one that took Mina leaving the hardest - she’s spent all these years trying to fill that gaping hole in her chest Mina left behind. 

Somehow, they end up in Mina’s room, leaving a trail of clothes in their wake. (They’ll laugh about it the next morning when they retrace their steps and clean up the mess.)

Jihyo is left only in her underwear, straddling Mina’s hips. Her thoughts are a scrambled mess and she cannot _think_, not with how Mina’s leaning up to press kisses all over her neck, her collarbones. She’s dreamt about this for so long now, but having a thought take real shape before her is too much. Jihyo feels too much. 

She pushes at Mina’s shoulder, and Mina draws back immediately. Her hair fans out over the pillow she’s leaning on - a golden halo made even more beautiful in the moonlight streaming in from outside. Her lips are kiss-swollen, eyes dark with shades of want, and her skin is flushed. Jihyo can feel the way Mina’s heart beats an erratic rhythm from where she has her hand pressed to the side of Mina’s ribs, grazing the underside of her breast.

“We should - Mina, we need to - “ Jihyo tries, and god, she cannot _think_ with the way Mina is looking at her. “I thought you wanted to put it all behind us.” 

Mina stares for a moment; it feels too long but then she smiles softly, leans up and kisses Jihyo, soft and sweet. 

“We are. This is us moving forward.”

They don’t talk after that. They just get lost in each other. 

Jihyo wakes up alone, the sheets beside her still warm to the touch. She stretches, feeling her muscles burn and then with a swoop of her stomach, remembers last night in vivid detail. Panic trembles up her spine. Before it settles unforgivingly in her bones, the door to the ensuite bathroom opens and Mina steps out, wrapped in a silk robe. It drapes over her collarbones, barely concealing the purple blossoms that colour her porcelain skin.

Jihyo swallows dangerously and tears her eyes away, feeling her cheeks burn. God, she wasn’t even drunk last night, why did she - what if Mina - 

The bed dips, and then gentle fingers brush her fringe away from her face, smoothing over her hair. 

“Stop overthinking.” Mina’s thumb brushes over the apple of her cheek.

“I’m not,” Jihyo says before letting out a little sigh. “But we should still talk about it. About last night.”

Mina doesn’t say anything but her thumb doesn’t stop tracing the curve of Jihyo’s cheekbone - over and over until some of the tension in Jihyo melts away and she leans into the touch. 

“I know there’s a lot we still need to figure out,” Mina murmurs, her voice a soothing balm that calms the panic trembling up Jihyo’s spine and the flames of self-doubt licking her insides. “But - I didn’t do anything I didn’t want to do, Jihyo-yah. Did - did you?”

Jihyo looks up then, catching the flicker of doubt laced with raw vulnerability that dims Mina’s edges. 

“I always want you, Mina,” Jihyo admits, the words flooding out of her in a single breath like a damn breaking. “I’ve wanted you - only you - for a long long time. I - I can’t remember how to not want you.” 

Mina goes still at the confession, then she smiles in a way that reminds Jihyo of sunshine on the first day of spring - a smile full of the promise of new beginnings.

“Then, stop overthinking, okay?” Mina leans down and presses her lips to Jihyo’s forehead. “You’re not something I can or will ever regret, Jihyo. We’ll figure the rest out, okay? Together.”

Something in Jihyo’s heart settles at the words. Despite everything else, Mina is always the calm that quiets her storms, always the anchor that grounds her. This time, Jihyo is no longer afraid; she latches on, tilts her face up in a wordless plea. Mina obliges immediately, chuckling fondly right before she leans down again and kisses Jihyo _good morning_. 

“Wanna grab breakfast and then knit by the beach?” Mina reads the question off her face before Jihyo voices it out loud. “I thought we could do something we both like together. Like old times, even if we’re creating new memories now."

Jihyo blinks. “I never realised how cheesy you really are.”

Mina smacks her shoulder but she’s laughing, brighter than the sun. Something in Jihyo’s heart settles, somewhere right in the melody of Mina’s laugh.

They spend the next few weeks enjoying each other’s company. Sometimes, they stay at home, spending lazy days in bed and then going for sunset walks by the beach. Sometimes, they drive around to see the sights or just head out for lunch or dinner in a nice restaurant. 

It’s so easy, so effortless, and Jihyo’s the happiest she’s ever been. 

It’s another night where they’re just lazing at home instead of going out for dinner. Mina had insisted on cooking and refused all offers of help, so Jihyo had settled on the sofa with her notebook, looking over the lyrics she had written and trying to find the words for new ones.

“Dinner’s ready,” Mina calls, and Jihyo hums to show she’s heard, closing her notebook and putting it on the coffee table. 

She makes her way to the kitchen, coming around to hug Mina from behind, resting her chin on Mina’s shoulder. Mina leans into the embrace and Jihyo smiles, kisses the base of Mina’s neck, over the crescent where it meets her shoulder. Mina shivers slightly, taking in a deep steadying breath.

“Jihyo,” Mina says, but the reprimand is lost in the way she tilts her head to give Jihyo better access, in the way she sinks bonelessly against Jihyo’s front. “The food's going to turn cold."

“We’ll just heat it up,” Jihyo murmurs in between kisses, slipping her fingers underneath Mina’s shirt and tracing the line of her abs. 

There’s a pause and Jihyo waits patiently, fingers dancing higher up Mina’s side. When she sucks sharply on Mina’s pulse point, Mina lets out a sharp gasp that dissolves into a moan. 

“You’re terrible,” Mina breathes when she turns around.

Jihyo’s laughing into their kiss, until Mina nibbles on her lip and then tangles fingers into her hair and tugs lightly and – 

Jihyo startles awake at the incessant ringing somewhere to her left. With eyes barely open, she fumbles for the phone on the nightstand and picks up the call without looking at the screen. 

Before she can say anything, a rapid-fire stream of Japanese flows into her ear. Jihyo struggles, still sleep-drunk and drowning in the warmth of Mina’s embrace. Mina who’s still asleep, her soft breaths feathering over Jihyo’s nape. It takes a moment for Jihyo to put the pieces together and recognise some of the kansai-ben she’s hearing, and then put a name to the voice it belongs to.

“Hi, Sana,” she greets, careful to keep her volume low as she shifts, slipping out of Mina’s hold and getting up.

There’s a pause - Sana stopping in the middle of her sentence. “Jihyo? Why are you answering Mina’s phone?”

“Mina’s asleep,” Jihyo whispers, as she cradles her phone against her neck and slips on the first piece of clothing in sight - Mina’s flannel.

“Still?” Sana sounds puzzled, but Jihyo knows it won’t be long before Sana connects the dots; Sana’s always been quick to catch on, always quick to read in between the lines. “It’s almost noon. Mina never sleeps past 10.”

Jihyo doesn’t reply immediately, too focused on opening the french doors with as little sound as possible. 

“We were - we didn’t really get much sleep last night,” Jihyo finally says when she’s out on the balcony.

There’s another pause, and then a squeal so loud Jihyo has to pull the phone away from her ear. 

“Will you _chill_,” Jihyo hisses because _what the fuck, Sana_. 

Sana only laughs without any trace of an apology whatsoever. “You’re on the balcony - I can hear the ocean. So _you_ chill, Mina’s not going to wake up.”

Jihyo hums, staring out at the glimmering blue waves laid out before her as far as her eyes can see. She’s about to ask why Sana called when Sana lets out this little noise that sets Jihyo’s teeth on edge and alarm bells ringing in her head.

“So, was the sex mind-blowing?”

Jihyo fumbles and almost drops the phone, cursing under her breath because _seriously, what the actual fuck, why does Sana have absolutely zero shame._

“_Sana_,” Jihyo begins, heat rising up her cheeks. “You can’t just ask me - I’m _not_ going to tell you details about our _sex life_!”

“You’re not denying it,” comes Sana’s cheeky reply, and Jihyo really wishes she has the power to teleport to wherever Sana is so she can flick Sana’s forehead or maybe push her off a cliff. “That you two slept -” 

The only option really is to just hang up, so Jihyo rushes through a half-formed goodbye and then ends the call before Sana can continue her line of questioning. Groaning, Jihyo closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, trying to calm herself. Her mind, though, refuses to cooperate, and Mina from last night swims to the front of Jihyo’s mind. Mina with her dark liquid eyes that never once wavered from Jihyo’s, even as she worked her fingers into Jihyo in a way that dismantled Jihyo completely. 

As if on cue, Jihyo feels arms wrapping around her waist and a warm weight settle against her back. 

“You’re cute when you’re flustered.” Mina noses at her neck and breathes Jihyo in. Then she kisses the underside of Jihyo’s jaw. It’s feather-light but Jihyo’s heartbeat still stutters, and there’s that familiar fluttering in her chest again. 

Jihyo turns around and Mina only holds her tighter, eyes dancing with barely concealed amusement. 

“How long were you awake?”

“Long enough,” Mina says, then presses another feather-light kiss to Jihyo’s forehead, right over where her brow creases. “You’re not the quietest, baby.” 

Jihyo’s heartbeat stutters again at the nickname. She gives in to the impulse and kisses Mina gently, chasing Mina’s lips even when Mina tries to push her away, giggling about morning breath. 

It turns into a messy tickle war that somehow ends with both of them flat on their backs in bed, breathless from the simplest of joys. 

“Hey,” Jihyo says, waiting for Mina to turn to her with a gummy smile. “Can we eat that feast you cooked last night that we never got around to?”

“No thanks to _you_,” Mina shoots back, but her smile doesn’t waver, and Jihyo knows she will live her entire life and not find anything that will rival its beauty or the way it makes her feel. 

"Turn right up ahead and just drive straight all the way," Mina tells her, squinting at the map on her phone.

Jihyo signals right, then steals a glance at the passenger seat. Mina's brows are furrowed in concentration, her lower lip caught between her teeth. It makes Jihyo smile and she purposely floors the accelerator as she makes the turn. Mina lets out a surprised gasp as she's thrown against the car door, phone slipping out of her grasp. She bends down to pick it up, glowering at Jihyo with a look that's more a pout than anything else. Jihyo just grins back, feeling warmth bloom in her chest when the corners of Mina's lips quirk slightly before she turns back to concentrate on the road. 

"We're here," Mina says after another minute of driving, her eyes disappearing into crescent moons in her excitement. "You can park there. By that tree."

Jihyo resists the temptation to tease Mina more by pointing out that there are trees for miles around them. They are, after all, driving through a forested area in the middle of the island. She pulls over near a large tree, somewhere near where Mina pointed at. Mina gets out immediately and walks over to the little dirt path that leads into the forest.

Jihyo watches her for a second before she unbuckles her own seat belt. She makes sure to grab Mina's flannel from where she had left it on the passenger seat; Mina has a tendency to get cold easily. Then she walks over and takes the hand Mina holds out to her, and together, they head off into the forest.

After 20 minutes of hiking, they emerge at a beautiful creek with a gorgeous little waterfall. Jihyo gasps in wonder because it's ridiculous how beautiful it is.

"Do you come here often?"

Mina turns to Jihyo and tilts her head, studying Jihyo intensely for a second. "No," she admits, like a confession she's held close to her heart for years. "I've always wanted to come here with someone I lo - with someone special."

Jihyo smiles, and doesn't comment on the way Mina trips over her words, or the way her cheeks are dusted a pretty shade of pink.

"I'm glad I'm your special someone then," she says and doesn't wait for Mina to reply, just leans over and kisses the shy, happy smile off Mina's face.

“Can we stop for a while?” Jihyo asks, looking over at Mina. “I wanna catch the sunset.”

Mina hums, then pulls over at the side of the road. Together, they get out and walk towards the guard rail. Jihyo crosses over it and holds out her hand for Mina, ever graceful as she settles down beside Jihyo.

They watch in quiet wonder as the sky comes alive with orange and amber hues. Jihyo marvels at the sight, and then marvels at the fact that she’s here, how extraordinary it is that she’s sharing this moment with Mina - the one who has her heart and the one she wants to share the rest of her sunsets with. 

A memory pulls at Jihyo’s consciousness, draws a confession out of the hollow in her chest she’d kept it in. 

She turns to look at Mina and her breath catches without her permission; Mina is otherworldly, with the last embers of sunshine sinking into her copper hair. She glows, radiant and heart-breaking and Jihyo never wants to look anywhere else again.

“Sunset,” Jihyo blurts out, and then winces, because she had wanted to give up this last secret in some sort of special way. Mina smiles softly at her and it’s the encouragement Jihyo needs to continue, to lay her heart and soul bare at Mina’s feet. “I wrote Sunset for you.”

Mina’s eyes flicker for a second as she absorbs Jihyo’s words, what Jihyo really means. Then her eyes light up, luminous and shimmering with emotion. She doesn’t say anything, just wraps her hand around Jihyo’s nape and tugs so that their lips meet. 

“I love you,” Jihyo gasps in between kisses. They haven’t said it yet, those three words that they both know they feel for one another. It’s been two months of discovering and relearning each other’s souls - two months of navigating through the uncharted waters of a relationship together. They haven’t said it yet but Jihyo can no longer keep it in, the confession aching to break free from where it’s trapped beneath her ribs. 

Mina stills, then kisses Jihyo so hard, it’s like she’s trying to steal all the air from Jihyo’s lungs. They’re both breathless when Mina pulls away, just enough to catch Jihyo’s eyes. 

“I love you too. I always have."

She tries to slip back into bed as quietly as she can, because Mina is a light sleeper and always has been. True enough, Mina shifts and opens her eyes blearily. “Baby?”

“I’m right here,” Jihyo soothes, letting Mina curl into her side, her forehead meeting Jihyo’s clavicle. Jihyo wraps an arm around Mina, sweeping a gentle hand up and down the staircase of her spine. “I just went to pee. Go back to sleep, love.”

Mina makes a small, indistinct noise, but her breathing evens out as sleep claims her again. Jihyo listens to the steady sound of Mina’s breathing, remembering moments when they used to share a room at the dorm and in foreign hotels, when the sound had soothed her to sleep. 

The only difference is that Mina’s hers now; Jihyo is no longer wary of any boundaries, of gazing only from a respectable distance. And there’s nothing to stop her from kissing Mina’s temple, so she does.

_I love you_, Jihyo thinks, teetering on the edge of sleep. _I love you I love you I love you. There has never been a day I haven’t loved you_. 

**[REVIEW] Park Jihyo Redefines Love in Poetic New Album, “Saltwater Dreams”**

Park Jihyo has had a long and illustrious career, both as a member of arguably the nation’s biggest girl group to date, Twice, and as a solo singer after the group’s disbandment. While Jihyo normally stays away from the controversies that plague other artistes of her generation, she was swept into a scandal just eight months ago - one that saw her disappear from the limelight and rumour has it, retreat to the tropical shores of Hawaii, where former member of Twice, Myoui Mina, apparently resides after her exit from the group due to anxiety-related health issues. 

However, Jihyo’s latest album, _Saltwater Dreams_, is a triumphant return. It breaks away from her previous albums and is a creative accomplishment that is entirely written and composed by the young star. _Saltwater Dreams_ elevates Jihyo to a new height of artistry and creativity in its honest attempts to bring a deeper, personal and almost intimate touch to Jihyo’s music.

As a whole, the album brings us on a journey as love changes shape; we begin with heartache and missed opportunities, and end on a more hopeful note of a love that’s everlasting - a fitting happy ending to this love story. 

The true strength of the album lies in the poetic lyrics, delivered by Jihyo in her unique vocal colour and timbre that reflects her talents as a singer, going far beyond her K-pop idol roots. 

Upon release, the tracks from _Saltwater Dreams_ instantly took over real-time music charts: an indication of her fans and the public’s appreciation of her growth not just as an artiste, but as a true singer-songwriter. 

Indeed, with this album, Jihyo has proven that she’s no longer just an ‘idol’. She has the talent and the tenacity to rise above controversies or hardships that come her way. In fact, with every new release, Jihyo solidifies herself as a true artiste with additional layers to her creativity and musicality. Park Jihyo is breaking through as a force to be reckoned with - and she’s definitely here to stay, with so many more heights to reach. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> @skyclectic on twitter and skyclectic on curious cat.
> 
> so, come drop by to say hi or share your thoughts or ask me anything, really. <3


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